Wednesday, 30 October 2013

I have started to revisit some of my thoughts around drawing. I started writing this (below) a few months ago and never got round to editing my thoughts. On re-reading I think there are several issues that need reworking, but some points in relation to the developing of a communal language are I think still useful.

Drawing and Pedagogy

Drawing is so easy to do that it has become an activity that
seems to be now focused within the early years of education and for use by
groups of the disadvantaged who have perhaps no other release for their
creativity. However its very accessibility and lack of barriers to its use
should be a reminder of how if used to its full potential, it could still be a
powerful tool for communicating our uniquely human experience.

When I first became aware of being taught about drawing I
was probably about 12 or 13. My art teacher at school was an ex Saint Martin’s
graduate who found himself teaching in a school in the West Midlands. He was
keen to engage his students with what he thought were the fundamentals of drawing
and to this end he introduced us to Paul Klee’s Pedagogical Sketchbook. We were
encouraged to investigate all the possibilities of dot, line, shape etc etc. I
was good at it and realised that the possibilities of permutation were endless
and that there was a great game to play here and it was enjoyable in a not
un-similar way to the solving of certain maths equations. We also studied
observational drawing, where the emphasis was on accuracy and measurement.
However the link between the two sorts of drawing was never really explained.

These types of investigations continued throughout my
formative education that included the Pre-Diploma Course in Art and Design done
post A level and before Dip AD.

The Dip AD introduced a whole new ball game, philosophy and
conceptual art. The limitations of Formalism were argued in tutorials and the
primacy of concept elevated. In particular this was a time of the
dematerialisation of the art object and the late 60s and early 70s saw a rise
in socialist thinking which questioned the status of painting as cultural
capital because of its ease of use as coinage within the art market. I did very
little drawing at this time, and the drawing I did was limited to illustrations
for possible art pieces, often using the conventions of engineering drawing.

However after working as a designer for a while, where I had
to use drawing as an illustrational tool, I moved into teaching on a Foundation
Course in Art and Design. This was a one-year course, designed to prepare
students for BA study and was centred on drawing. It was very similar to my
Pre-Diploma experience and I was given the opportunity to re-examine drawing
from the point of view of the educator.

Over several years of teaching drawing within a passionate
team of committed artists I started to evolve my own philosophy of how drawing
could be used as a thinking tool. I was becoming more and more convinced as to
its unique ability to carry certain concepts and to communicate delicate
differences in sensibility. However as my awareness grew, the role of drawing
started to be questioned and it started to be moved from the centre of what was
being done to the periphery. Instead of an activity that continued throughout
the course it became an intense activity at the beginning of the programme. It
became the jumping off point for 4 weeks of formal visual language education
that went on to look at colour and 3D. This was a mini programme that was
designed to take students through the essentials before they started to engage
with their own specific interests. Process was now seen as central to the
development of a student’s vocabulary and investigations into the precision of
the language although seen as still important by the staff, often
unacknowledged by the students who were more engaged with the activities than
the process of looking. Life drawing was dropped, but no similar observational
activity was put in to replace it.

During this time the college introduced a wide range of new
technologies, in particular, computers. More time was now being spent on
inductions into the wide range of techniques available, from different software
programmes, to casting techniques, glass workshops, clay, metal, plastics,
print, fibres etc. The focus was on the students developing a personal language
and demonstrating that they were thinking like designers or artists. Drawing as
a tool seemed much more directly linked to concepts rather than experiences. In
particular the fine art students started to use it as if it was a material
process to investigate, rather than a tool with which to investigate the world.
Some very interesting work was done and it reflected what was going on in the
art world itself, but an ability to operate chosen languages of drawing with
precision was being lost.

By this time I was working on the degree programmes and the
more I saw the students portfolios the more I was becoming aware that drawing
as an articulate language was disappearing from most of the feeder courses. The
degree programmes themselves were also dropping drawing as students became
involved with various new technologies and of course the ever expanding access
to computer technology was forcing course leaders to calculate how many
students to a computer rather than how much drawing time they had.

Eventually we reached a point when the college principal
decided to take away the one remaining specialist drawing studio to give more
room to expanding student numbers and at this point I realised the battle to
keep drawing within the pedagogic core was well and truly lost. However it also
made me realise that if I was to fight back I would have to clarify what
drawing’s role was and to provide a theoretical justification for its
centrality.

No one seems to question the status of verbal and written
language within the educational system. Indeed the college has seen an
expansion in the role of academic educational support and now includes academic
writing courses and help with literacy at all levels, throughout both FE and
HE. The arguments surrounding this were constructed around the need for
students to have a precision of language that would help them to articulate
degree level thinking. It was of course ironic that that very precision in
visual thinking was not seen as being vital too.

The rise of individualism was I felt at the core of the
problem. Art within education had been centred on the concept of individual
expression for many years. But in contrast the early education of English
language was focused on communication. How could someone write an essay or a
poem without first learning the language? It was as if students were being
taught how to make the sound of words without putting them within a framework
of grammar and at higher levels without any test as to what they were
communicating. So much of what students were looking at was, “open to
interpretation” and indeed the silence of drawing seemed to support this
stance. It was only in crits that attempts seemed to be made to address this
problem of communication. However the sophistication of analysis within these
crits seemed to be focused on how students could move forward within a set of self-developed rules and in essence the crits became solipsistic in nature. It was as if we were using made
up game rules that you had to break the code of before being able to engage
with how to move forwards. We had in fact become very astute at this, but to
the loss of engagement with outsiders who often had no way into these hermeneutic
debates. If an essay is not clear a student can be asked to write it again and
be given help in construction and sentence structure. Good poetry is grounded
in an awareness of the texture of the language and of how a new awareness can
be gained by bringing familiar words together in surprising but still
understandable combinations. A good critique should therefore help the group as
a whole articulate both how a visual language is coming into being and what
meanings are capable of being carried by this language.

A proposed curriculum.

I am proposing a return to basics. The basic issue of all
language teaching is the fact that you work within a fixed set of meanings. In
English the first dictionaries were very important, but before these there
would have been a certain common agreement as to what words meant and how to
structure the grammar that surrounded them. Where would I find the equivalent
for drawing?

For some time I have been interested in phenomenology and
embodied mind thinking. In particular the relationship between our physical
awareness of the body and how concepts are developed from this experience. At
the core of this seemed to me the importance of metaphor and drawing can easily
be interpreted through a metaphoric understanding. Not only could drawing be
used to reflect an awareness of embodied experience and the way that it
underlies the development of complex abstract concepts but I felt very strongly
it could also be a graphic embodiment of personal experience.

Lakoff and Johnson (1987) developed a very clear
articulation of what they called “image schemas”. It was these schemas that
they felt underpinned our ability to develop concepts. For instance
‘Verticality and Balance’ schemas could be seen as at the core of many of the
higher-level concepts we have evolved. Drawing is a clearly brilliant way to
articulate these ideas. Not only can it be positioned within the same framework
physically, it can within that framework be nuanced to the nth degree. The
touch of the drawer should be read as the tone of voice or peculiarity of
handwriting but what is said or articulated should rely on how the basic
elements of the drawing come together.

Rhythm could then be seen not just as a formal element but
also as an element that can be read in relation to particular experiences
within and without the body. Awareness of the way things move is dependent on
compulsion, attraction and blockage schemas, all patterns developed through
repeated experiences of phenomena. These experiences are obtained via a
combination of senses, visual, oral and touch having primacy. They often
reinforce each other, for instance the rhythmic sound change as an object gets
nearer or further away, is reinforced by changes in size constancy, tonal
weight, as well as linear direction. From these basic components control
strategies can be evolved. Properties that can be repeatedly connected with
particular objects or experiences allow us to learn. From the learning we see
further related patterns as memory, imagination and reason combine to form a
synthesis.

Going back to that earlier experience of the formal
investigation of marks and lines and objective drawing, you could categorise
these as belonging to the two kinds of visual perception as described by Witelo
in his De Perspectiva. He was interested in the subject/object relationship.
His two kinds of visual perception were on the one hand the grasp of visual
forms through what we would call intuition (this could be linked to a
particular type of objective drawing based on perceptual responses) and
perception together with preceding knowledge. (In this case the links between
formal qualities and associated schema).

A simple case would be quantities. Kant described the moment
when an intuition of one and many allowed for the development of a concept of
counting. He called this an intuition of the bare two oneness. An idea of
‘justice’ perhaps may have started by an initial intuition of unbalanced
relationships and what causes them. The frantic zigzag movement of someone
trying to escape a predator could be a basic element in the rhythm of fear. All
these intuitions arrive from organism/environment interactions and they don’t
need any explanation for their existence other than an extension of
phenomenological logic.

Perhaps one of the most profound ideas to evolve from bodily
awareness is that of the spirit or non-bodily entity. Death or the absence of
that spirit of animation has always been an inescapable phenomena for human
beings. Because we have a front and a back and our visual organs are positioned
so that we cant see behind us, we also have an idea that things that are not
seen are not just unknown they are a potential threat. If you watch a bear checking
for danger, it will stand on its hind legs and look around to get a better
view, our ability to stand on two legs is probably another adaptation to
wanting to get a better view. If you start putting the concepts of inability to
see something, fear of the unknown, therefore threat of death, with the concept
of loss of animated spirit, you can envisage the development of the idea of a
difference between two states being visualised as a physical boundary or
barrier between states. Our early ancestors envisioned a line or divide between
life and death or matter and spirit which was I would argue represented by the
cave wall, which could act as a membrane between one state and another; between
the world we can see and concepts we cant. The cave painter would work images
across the boundary between the two states of the unknown and the known. This
boundary would eventually be seen as the divide between our perceptions of
physical day-to-day existence and the intellectual abstractions and reflections
on our existence. It is also a reflection of the barrier between our own body
and that of the world. Self and other.

This long history should not be forgotten and every time an
image is constructed on a ground the membrane vibrates with the tension between
what is physical and what is mental. Images still arrive as if by magic,
impelled by possibilities in exactly the same way shapes suggested by
protruding rock formations in dark caves stimulated the imagination of the
early painters. The day-to-day experiences may change but the possibilities of
bodily metaphor through drawing remain just as potent.

If we need a dictionary of image metaphorical possibilities
where can we find one? First of all there is the huge store of drawings done
and housed in national collections throughout the world, but there is also the
old tradition of people in the business passing down to others how to work in
the trade, the how to do it manuals such as those by published by Heck in the 18th
century. However most of the how to draw books we now have available are
for the amateur and they concentrate on technique rather than the development
of metaphorical possibility. Paradoxically resources for the comic book artist
are much better, in particular Scott Mcloud’s Understanding Comics includes a
clear attempt to start to categorise drawing styles alongside their metaphoric
possibilities together with their degree of abstraction or realism, as well as
attempting to show how many other aspects of visual and written languages
construct meaning. However it is only engaged with a taxonomy of drawing
devices and constructional methods and approaches within the comic book
tradition and although some of these can be exported for use within other areas
there are serious omissions as to how meanings may be constructed within the
field of drawing as a whole. Even so it is an interesting model to look at and
it has its historical precedents in the works of Durer and other artists who
attempted to develop manuals for practice. Above all the physical experience of
drawing and how this can carry great metaphorical weight is mainly ignored
because most comic book work is printed and this eliminates the artists’
various touches and the restricted size of the comic book page restricts the
possible relationships that can be built between drawing size and the human
body, the object subject / drawing / body empathy.

If people are going to be affected by any art form they will
be most likely to be so if they sense that the communication is viscerally
connected to the real world of their experiences. How we make and experience
meaning within an art form is therefore closely linked with how we process raw
experience. If these experiences are to be communicated we need to go beyond
art as something that is about individual feelings and to look at how it works
as a learnable language.

Drawing, because it is a stripped down art form, is
therefore an excellent arena within which to explore the development of a
learnable language. John Dewey’s Art as Experience is probably the most
important 20th century formulation of the fact that art reflects
back to us our experience of the world. But beyond that art also constructs
meanings out of these experiences. Therefore, we could look at a basic
progression of events that can lead to a meaningful construction for both the
individual and the sub-group within which individuals finds themselves.

One: Our body experiences things and events, both within the
body and externally.

Two: In order to be able to make decisions in response to
perceived events, we look for patterns within the experiences received. This
enables us to predict and make choices for actions.

Three: Because experiences are all received via the body’s
sense receptors, the initial understanding of experience is one that relies on
the knowledge of our own body.

Four: Once patterns are seen as being useful, we can
undertake decision making and if these decisions are clearly beneficial to us,
we will memorise them and use responses to them again.

Five: At some point relationships between different patterns
are realised. At this point planning can be done, which can predict events
based on a combination of several patterns which appear to have consistency and
durability.

Six: The recognition of the existence of patterns has to be
communicated to others.

Seven: The group starts to take ownership of the idea /
concept. One of the key patterns of communication is the testing of different
hypotheses by the group. The pattern that is the most robust and therefore the
one that might be used to eventually develop a concept, is the one that stands
the various tests put upon it by the group.

Eight: The individual and the group feel ‘right’ about what
is happening. There is a feeling tone to life that sits around the whole
process of this experience, a tone which I can only describe as a sense of “a
profound instinctive union with the life stream”. This phrase was Bertrand
Russell’s definition of happiness. Group ownership of concepts is central to
the development of the feeling tone, but so is the fact that concepts are
developed from contact with real, testable situations.

Nine: As awareness of patterns become more complex; this
leads to a need to give the patterns meaning in order to cement them into our
communicative minds. At his point arises art in the form of narratives, images,
rhythmic sounds etc each used to ensure that the experiential patterns of life
are embedded within the life tone. This is at the core of what we think of as
meaning. However this is not meaning as a propositional statement, it is
meaning as a confirmation of experience.

Drawing illustrates the patterns of experience in two ways.
It can be used to record the patterns of visual perception and it can be used
as an arena within which to investigate patterns of material/body interaction.
Often however the two patterns flow into each other, memory being the key
factor in their control.

The construction of a moving experience will involve
engaging us with all of those experiences that the real world gives us plus a
patterning of those experiences within controlling media. If the communication
doesn’t deal with these things, others in the audience will not recognise their
importance and it will not be a moving experience for them. Most young people fall in love at some point
and popular music for our young people overwhelmingly deals with this. It is an
experience they are trying to make sense of and how others have dealt with it
is part of the learning experience as well as part of the being one with the human
community experience. This works so well because of the accuracy of our
recording techniques, the voice, music and its unique tone are captured well
enough for people to be emotionally moved by the original singer’s words and
how they are supported by the music. However the specificity of drawing does
not survive translation. For instance size is vital as this gives not only a
bodily metaphoric possibility but it also allows for immediate engagement with
the physicality of the mark making. Just as so many songs of popular appeal at
root owe much to nursery rhymes, so many of our responses to drawings are based
in childhood experiences. These experiences with drawing are often however
fractured and therefore difficult to build up a meaningful association with.
Two areas within which drawing is valued very highly within schools are maths
and geography. In maths it’s called geometry and in geography it’s called
mapping. Both these types of drawing rely directly on embodied experiences, but
of course they are not presented in this way. They carry sophisticated
information which we are taught to read. In the art room of course students are
expressing themselves, they will definitely not be learning how to use schema
to look for patterns of embodied meaning.

Arnheim states, “In the perception of a shape lies the
beginning of concept formation”. The meaning is linked to how neural patterns
are operated in the brain by the perception of forms.

We can make sense of tiny differences in perceptual
information. Each change in perceived information if responded to quickly
enough would have meant the difference between survival or death. We have an alert openness to possibilities
that therefore can lie at the centre of how drawings may communicate.
Infinitely subtle shifts of emphasis can be used to engage an observer in new
and for them inexperienced aspects of their previous experiences, this
communication deepening the meaning of the experience and in the moment of
communication achieving the necessary link with the life stream.

If we were to study Chinese calligraphy, the subtle changes
in inking, tonal quality, arm movement, brush manipulation, spatial division,
energy of rhythm, dryness or wetness of application, response to surface grain,
knowledge of other calligraphers etc are all seen as an essential when trying
to read a new piece. Above all perhaps state of mind is being communicated
here. How far ‘in tune’ with the subject/experience is the artist? The meaning
of any individual drawing being partly to do with how far and in what way an
immersion into the life stream has been achieved.

The poetics of drawing are not something that comes easily
and the subtlety needed to contain experience only comes through practice. The
Zen masters can teach us that. We need to go beyond process in order to become
aware and alert to the possibilities that occur when experiencing the
experience of drawing. That membrane that exists between the physical and the
spiritual world is perhaps the site for this engagement.

Metaphor is at the core of how we read drawing images.
Coleridge’s “Likeness in unlikeness” a key to how these metaphors will be read
and the body the prime source of their generation. Time spent studying these
readings needs to be taken seriously and in the same way students are asked to
study the syntax of poetry, I would advocate they spend more time studying the
way that drawing’s language can be read and then applied through practice and
application.

As Plato stated, “If painters reproduced the true proportions
of beautiful forms, the upper parts would seem smaller and the lower parts
larger than they ought, because we see the former from a distance the latter
from near at hand…Artists therefore give their figures not the actual
proportions but those which seem to be right”. By “seem to be right”, I presume
he meant that which reflects actual experience, which is time-bound and
spatially determined. Real experience is what lies at the core of this and
although Plato would argue otherwise, the myth of universal forms doesn’t
actually help with getting to grips with the unpredictability of reality.

The differences between what each of us perceives and the
fact that there is a commonality of experience, lies at the core of the
possibilities of communication within drawing. An allowance of subjectivity
leads to a certain generalisation and degrees of ‘realism’ or degrees of
‘abstraction’ all understandable within the context of the essential life
experiences of a human being. Moving, eating, breathing, feeling pain, death
etc are all possible generators of drawing’s metaphorical potential. Above all
drawing reminds us of the feeling tone that is life itself, each mark frozen in
its arc of bodily gesture, each element of the drawing reflecting the rhythms
of the body that made it.

Therefore I would propose a drawing curriculum centred on
how meaning is derived from experience. I would start from scratch (so to
speak) with no preconceptions as to what answers could be and would initially
focus on how the world is experienced and how our individual responses could
lead to communal meanings. Meaning would be found through making, understanding
would be left for the academics to construct.

If drawing is to retain its status as a key element of any
art student’s education it needs to be re-presented as a pedagogic tool that
gives access to the highest levels of both conceptual and material thinking.
Rather than being sidelined as a redundant element it needs to be foregrounded
once again but with a fresh and rigorous approach, designed to empower and open
the minds and eyes of new students.

Sunday, 27 October 2013

I quite often get asked to provide texts for student shows. These (below) are some I've done recently. Most of these texts are archived on my computer at work, I'll post a few more up when I remember to and have access to old files, but for now these texts can act as a reminder of an aspect of the job that I haven't referred to before.

The Burden of Proof was for the text that went with last year's (2013) 3rd year end of year book which was produced to accompany their final college exhibition and show at Free-Range. An end of year book to accompany final 3rd year shows now seems to be mandatory. I suppose it works as a great reminder of who you were at college with. Trying to think of who I went to college with 40 years ago is very hard. I cant remember most people's names and so I would personally value something like a catalogue to help trigger lost memories. However the catalogue is also part of something else. It reflects a desire to be more professional and acts as a marketing tool for the course as well as a promotional tool for individual students, each of which gets a page to promote themselves.

The Burden of Proof

There is a painting by Caravaggio of St
Thomas sticking the index finger of his right hand into an open wound in
Christ’s side. Doubting Thomas can’t
believe that this is really the risen Christ; he won’t accept the reality of
the resurrection unless he has touched the warm, wet, stickiness of reality.
Such is the burden of proof. What is
fascinating about this image is that Christ grasps St. Thomas’s wrist as if to
make sure the finger goes right in, he pulls back his robe so that there is no
mistaking the wound for what it is. The
burden of belief will now become St. Thomas’s; the idea made flesh.

It might appear that to mention one of the
greatest paintings in the historical canon in conjunction with a catalogue that
showcases the work of students about to graduate is almost sacrilegious. However it is sometimes useful to remind
ourselves that the tradition of making meaning by organising materials into new
formations is a very old one. 40,000
years ago people were making images on cave walls in what we now call Spain.
Those images were made of earth and spit and blood, were shaped in response to
experience and in their shaping they found their final forms.

Three years of making, thinking, re-making,
re-thinking, realising at some point that making is thinking and that ideas can
materialise out of that symbiotic relationship artists gradually build with
their materials is in some ways still a similar apprenticeship to that followed
by all artists throughout hstory. An old
form of education that it could be argued is still fit for purpose, when it
comes to equipping young artists to go out into the world.

The tools might have changed, the materials
as much software as hardware, but the interaction between organic thinking beings
with malleable materials in order to create meaningful images, is still a
necessary part of the human condition. The difficulty is how to prove the
lasting importance of this long challenged activity, how the gravity and
seriousness of these physical manifestations can be tested against a world of
multi-meanings and instant networking in spaces that have no tangible reality
and yet which can feel all so real to us. Who has not worried about missing
incoming text messages, lost e mails and Facebook fatigue. We are becoming
wired for pleasure and pain in ways that no one can predict. The proof of our
existence now being whether or not we Twitter or message the world on a regular
basis. As technology moves on, art however
remains the same. We are still born and grow and love and fight and eat and
sleep and try to make sense of it all. By having such a long tradition to look
back on, artists it could be argued, have a deeper, more textured awareness of
the possibilities of dealing with our struggle to come to terms with the world
around us. Technology can be so alien, materials appear so intractable and
inhuman, and yet they can be shaped, they can be made to hold different stories
and narratives of wonder. This then is
where the burden of truth falls now. It falls on the shoulders of young artists
setting out to prove that what they are doing is worthwhile and whether or not
they are capable of transforming the materials of their world into new and
meaningful narratives

It’s unlikely that you will be persuaded by
their efforts at first glance, but like St Thomas, perhaps it’s worth another
few minutes of your time. Take time to prod about, imagine what it is like to
shape materials by touch as much as sight. Remember that this is the science of
imaginary solutions, something difficult to teach, something difficult to
learn, but when it realises itself it is something to remember, something to
cherish in this world of moneyed values. In a time of economic recession it is
easy to forget that we also need to nourish our souls with the possibility that
there must be more to life. The fact that fine art courses still exist as
spaces for meditation and invention is a sign that our society still values
these things, but like all things, they will eventually stand or fall under the
burden of having to prove their own validity and this catalogue and the accompanying
exhibition is part of that proof.

Garry Barker 2013

Weights and Measures was the title of a second year exhibition which was held in ESA Patrick's Studios project space. We try and organise exhibitions in public using out of college venues whenever possible, this is of course very useful experience for students and gives them an insight into the difficulties and issues involved. In this case the text was designed for an A5 handout.

Weights and Measures

Aesthetic decisions can weigh heavily on both fine artists
and their audiences, especially when it comes to making and receiving art
through the intractable materiality of practice. These 38 second year fine art
students have set out their stall to measure the aesthetic temperature of
professional exhibition curation and in the balance seek to take the measure of
what it is to be an emerging artist. Painting, drawing, sculpture, video and
installation work is being tested and measured for creativity, inspiration,
lightness of touch, weight of endeavour and visual effect. It is only to be
hoped their aesthetic protractor rings true, and that as it seeks to measure
and apportion taste, we don’t find it’s always set to the angle of perceived
pain.

Take the measure of these works, take a load off your feet,
sit down and deliberate; ponder on their ponderousness, weigh up their worth,
and don’t forget their future lies in the balance and your consideration is all
they ask. No money need be exchanged, no pound of flesh has to be put on the
scale; it’s all for free, for your eyes only, as long of course that the scales
have been removed.

Are these young artists punching above their weigh are there
any heavyweights amongst them? Have they melted down the gold and silver of
refined poetry or just discovered lead in their alchemic artist’s search? Only
the measured beat of time will tell.

Garry Barker

March 2012

Pump and Grind was the title of a first year exhibition at Thwaite Mill. This would be the first time students would have shown and it was a site specific installation, using the whole of the mill both inside and outside. This experience was always of great benefit but this year for the first time we are not undertaking a site specific experience because of the incoming numbers.

Pump and Grind

These first year Fine Art students have produced a wonderful
diverse range of work in response to the location of Thwaite Mill. The Mill and
its grounds are sites of historic interest and the edgelands that surround the
mill buildings are typical of those areas that nature reclaims from past
industrial sites. The ghosts of previous lives intermingle with the everyday
reality of a territory sandwiched between the river and the canal, an island of
cultural potential that has been mined for its possibilities by 38 young
artists each one of which has taken on board the extremely difficult task of
making work that can stand up to the awkward presence of the mill’s reality.

For contemporary artists an understanding of the nature of
site specific work is vital. In future, in order to earn an income from their
practice young artists may well have to engage and produce work in response to
a variety of real life situations; from hospitals, to council estates, from
derelict docklands to town centres. In a time of recession sometimes art can be
a key tool in preserving the optimism needed for a society to continue to
believe in the human spirit and the magical possibilities that exist in
everyday reality. Artists are key to our society’s continuing vitality and can
operate as a necessary shamanistic force, a force that helps us see our world
with new eyes and allow us to appreciate the poetry of life. This show of work
is a first step for these students towards their taking on of that social
responsibility.

The exhibition title, ‘Pump and Grind’ has been chosen
by these students as a deliberately provocative gesture. They realise like all
good Surrealists, that the mechanics of machinery is essentially sexual and
that the collective unconscious memories and dreams that surround any
historical site will touch upon the core themes of our human psyche. In the
dark corners of this working mill, fear and death, sexual excitement, work and
play, water and earth, faith and anxiety all feed our unconscious and provide
triggers towards a poetic understanding of the human condition. Found in the
detritus that surrounds us is the gold and silver of creative wonder. This may
be found in the sound of forgotten work noises drifting through a field of
grass, strange material traces of the ghosts of labour or the ambitious reconstruction
of half forgotten creatures from nature’s edgelands. Perhaps though, the real
wonder is to be found in the fact that these students were prepared to take the
risk that their work could be defeated and subdued by the surrounding reality
of the mills. That they persisted to work in the cold and the rain, that they
were prepared to take a gamble on their own creativity, and that it would
sustain them in the face of what can at times appear to be an uncompromising
territory, is indeed wonderful.Garry Barker 2012